


Casino Royale

by Ford_Ye_Fiji



Series: Cigarettes and Miniguns [4]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Cliche, F/M, Fluff, Happy Nick Valentine's Day actually, Happy Valentine's Day!, One Shot, Shooting, dont play card games when you're obsessed with a detective, i decided to post this early, last one was angst have some happiness, you'll get ideas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 08:56:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9714269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ford_Ye_Fiji/pseuds/Ford_Ye_Fiji
Summary: Nick and Nora do a short job for Ham.Some violence.Happy (Nick) Valentine's Day! :D





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know about the title. I thought card games and that was what popped up in my brain's Google search, I'm sorry.

The barely adequate lighting in the back room of the bar is an old pale yellow. The lone light flickers overhead as the four men shuffle their cards and watch their opponents warily.

The first man is a gunner, one of their grizzled veterans. He has a scar right over his milky and unseeing right eye. The snarl gracing his lips and the cigar clenched between his yellow teeth gives him an overall effect of menacing. So does the missile launcher propped up next to his chair. He adjusts his military beret and puffs thick smoke out from between his lips.

The man to his right is a ghoul, a triggerman, by the name of Ham. He's the bouncer for the Third Rail, the very bar they're playing cards in. The other sign he's a gangster was his submachine gun... In the other room. The creature smiles at the mismatched deck of cards and carefully arranges the burnt and damaged cards in his hand. It took him two years to collect all four complete suits. Maybe from different card companies, but at least it's a full set of diamonds and clubs, spades and hearts.

The man to the left of the gunner veteran is a raider. His mismatched armor pieces, his propensity to use foul language, and his utter ignorance on how to play cards is all very telling. The cheap and nearly ineffective pipe rifle also marks him as a one of them.

The last man in this strange and dangerous quartet is smoking a cigarette. A worn fedora casts his face in shadow, the lit cigarette only illuminating the faint outline of a scarred mouth. The man adjusts his shoulders and the tan trench coat rustles slightly, as well as the pipe pistol in his ragged leather shoulder holster. It has exactly three bullets. The man's thin metal fingers carefully pick a card up and place it in the pile in the center of the table.

The raider cusses and sits back as the man, or should we say synth, in the fedora takes the hand.

Ham stands up, hands in the pockets of his tux, "Gentlemen, I have some urgent business to take care of. Behave, I'll be back in a bit."

He strides out, the tin cans at the entryway rattling as he passes.

The raider and gunner eye each other warily, but don't cause trouble. They're here for the game. (Well, that and the shipment of mentats, jet, and psycho that Ham suggested he was shipping through the Third Rail that evening.)

A mere minute later, a woman with hair and lips as red as sin strolls into the room. She sashays up to the table in a sparkling red dress that hugs her curves just so. She smiles and reveals unnaturally clean teeth, her painted lips curve upwards slightly, it's a sign she _knows_ how good she looks.

The raider licks his lips and wriggles in his seat. The gunner glares at the raider and then huffs, turning his attention to the attractive woman across from him, "Sorry, lady. This room is off limits."

She pouts, "Aw, Nicky said it was okay." She turns, fingers dancing across the collar of the synth's battered trench coat, "It's okay, isn't it, Nicky?"

The synth looks up, unnatural yellow optics bright from under the brim of his hat. A wry smile graces his scarred lips as he takes out his cigarette and stamps it out on the ashtray. Something seems to change as the woman observes the seemingly meaningless action, "Sure, doll."

A second later, the world is plunged into darkness when the light goes out.

There's two gunshots, a shout, another gunshot and then all is quiet.

The light flickers back to life and the woman is holding a pipe pistol which she hands back to the synth. The gunner is dead on the floor as well as the raider, whose head now paints the tile in a sickening scarlet splatter.

The synth turns to the woman, " _Nicky?_ "

She shrugs, "Hey, I always loved those black and white detective films." She smiles, "You've gotta admit, you certainly fit the bill."

Nick frowned, "I don't recall any robot detectives, doll."

She shrugs as Ham walks back into the room. She eyes the ghoul warily, but she glances at Nick and then pastes a smile on her face as the ghoul rasps, "Thanks for the help, you two. The gunners and the raiders will be a little less organized and a lot less dangerous for Goodneighbor now that their heads are out of the way." Ham looked at the raider's corpse and cackled, "Heh, and in some cases, literally!"

Nora nods, "We were glad to help."

She wanted to show them that she's changed now. She's not just another Brotherhood of Steel soldier here to kill them. Ghouls. They may not be the prettiest of creatures, but they're still human and struggling to survive- just like the rest of mankind.

Nora's smile grows more genuine and Nick allows a small half smile that is strangely adorable. Ham grins back, pocketing his miraculously unstained playing cards.

Something tells him that things just got a whole lot better.


End file.
